


Moo & You

by surprisepink



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, set mid-canon before zag escapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: “Do you,” Theseus says slowly, “Not know what a cow is?”Asterius snorts, and shakes his head.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur & Persephone (Hades Video Game), Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 377





	Moo & You

**Author's Note:**

> A little while ago I was joking with some buddies on Discord about Asterius not knowing what a cow was and I decided to take the joke too far.

"King," Asterius says, "what sort of animal am I?"

"Why Asterius, have you come to me for reassurance? Your body may be unconventional, but your heart is as strong and noble as a man's—nay, it is stronger, and nobler than any everyday man, for your spirit was forged by strife and triumph, through life and death. You are a man, and at the same time, you are beyond men!”

It is very flattering. Also, it does not answer Asterius’ question. “Thank you, but that isn’t quite what I meant,” He pauses. " I'm not sure how to better ask, though."

“How, then, can I soothe your soul? Just say the word, and I shall tell you what you need to hear.”

“It is as I said: I hope to learn what kind of animal I am.”

“Y-you... Asterius, if you are asking whether you are man or beast, human or cow, I—”

“That. What’s that?”

"What," replies Theseus, quite eloquently.

“You called me a cow. Others in Elysium have said it, too. What is a cow?”

“Do you,” Theseus says slowly, “Not know what a cow is?”

Asterius snorts, and shakes his head.

“Then all of the times I’ve called you ‘Bull’, which, incidentally, is a term of _affection_...”

Asterius shrugs his broad shoulders. “I’m am aware that I am called a bull. Based on how I look, I can be sure they are creatures of great size, with sharp horns. Beyond that I’m not sure.”

“Ah.”

“A monstrous animal. One that eats humans, presumably. One that humans fear, certainly.”

Theseus looks as though he is inclined to faint.

“Am I... wrong?” Asterius asks.

“You seem a bit confused, yes.”

“I see.”

“But never fear, my friend. I am here now, to teach you!”

Theseus has taught him a lot of things, most of which have proven useful. His offer, therefore, is a compelling one.

There are no cows anywhere in Elysium, and that has a profound negative effect on Theseus’ plan, which had originally been to to “find a blasted bull and show it to my dearest friend, so that he might better understand his origin and embrace what it truly means to be a bovine.” Asterius is only halfway sure what he means, but this is often true when it comes to Theseus, and so it doesn’t bother him much.

“You mean to tell me that not even a _single_ cow has gained entrance into this paradise?” Theseus yells, throwing his hands into the air in defeat. Asterius is not sure how long it has been since they began their search, but he’d been intending to spend the day with Theseus either way. Whether they are fighting, feasting, or seeking out a cow makes little difference in the grand scheme of things.

Still. Theseus is frustrated, and this, in turn frustrates Asterius. It is difficult to watch him in anguish that is, technically, Asterius’ doing.

“Well,” Asterius offers, “Even I am only here thanks to your good graces. It seems unlikely that any bull who wasn’t born of a woman would have any reason to be sent here.”

“A cow is a useful creature, Asterius! Oxen plow the fields, and the ladies give us milk, which is made into all manner of cheeses. And—” he waves his hand, gesturing vaguely. “They provide us other food as well!”

“Other... food?”

Not for the first time today, the king seems to decide that he’s made a mistake. “Do not worry about it,” he says, averting his eyes. This, he does not do often.

Naturally, Asterius is worried now. “What foods do bulls provide, King?”

“Not-- not bulls, oh gods, not _you_ , Asterius, I did _not_ mean to offend—”

“They are used for meat,” realizes Asterius. “You are allowed to say so.”

“Not the _bulls_ , usually!”

“So it is the opposite of what I assumed...”

Asterius has not let a bite of meat pass his lips since his death. Though Theseus has introduced him to all manner of glorious dishes, his preference is fruits and vegetables, having consumed quite enough flesh already under unpleasant circumstances.

This is reassuring; it is good that he has not consumed one of his brethren in what is meant to be a paradise.

Then, he glances at Theseus, who is still avoiding eye contact.

“I do prefer fish, myself,” says Theseus, weakly.

“It would be hypocritical of me to shame you for eating a cow.”

“Right. Yes, of course you’re right.”

“Though if it were up to me, I would have any creature that sacrificed its life to feed another be given the greatest honors in death.” Asterius snorts. It is a topic he has given much thought to. “To die for another is the bravest thing I can imagine.”

They are still searching through grassy plains, an area of Elysium where warriors tend not to tread as often, and more animals can be seen. Mostly, Theseus has explained, they are called dogs, a noble creature in their own right that assist humans in a variety of tasks and only sometimes eaten afterwards.

One of the dog-shades comes up to them now to sniff and then lick Theseus’ hand, which seems to perk him up somewhat.

“Do cows lick humans as well?”

“Do you wish to lick me, Asterius?” Theseus answers with suspicious speed. “I mean! Not always. But it wouldn’t be very unusual.”

“I would, if it would please you.”

“W-well... let us save that for later, though.”

Asterius nods. “We need to find you a cow, first.”

“We need to find _you_ a cow.”

Making it to the surface is surprisingly easy. The exit is guarded by what is clearly a larger version of the dogs they saw before, and though at the sight of him Theseus tugs at Asterius’ chiton and murmurs something about turning around, the dog seems friendly enough.

“You don’t understand, Asterius! This is Cerberus, the guardian of the underworld and, naturally, the most fearsome creature of Hades’ house, just as _we_ are Elysium’s most fearsome. We should not, cannot, even begin to defeat him even so, for”—

“Good boy,” says Asterius, scratching one of Cerberus’ chins as Theseus did with one of the shade-dogs earlier. Neither this head nor either of the other two seem particularly interested in fighting him.

“How are you doing that?” asks Theseus.

Asterius shrugs. “It seems that I get along well with large animals.”

Cerberus sighs contentedly.

“Besides, we see him when we visit the House,” Asterius continues. “And he is sleeping, most of the time. The short one introduced me to him, and said to use caution and only touch the leftmost head.”

“I suppose I wasn’t paying attention to that daemon. What was he doing there, anyway?”

“At some point you must admit he has good things to say.”

“Bah!” Theseus says. The positive mention of Zagreus and his subsequent annoyance seems to bring him back to being his normal self. “He flaps his lips too much. You are patient, Asterius.”

Theseus is very patient, with _him_. Asterius declines to point this out.

So Cerberus lets them pass, and they leave. Faintly, Asterius wonders if there would be any consequences should they be discovered, but Theseus seems unconcerned, so it’s fine. Probably.

It’s cold outside when they leave the underworld, perhaps colder than Asterius has ever been (the stone walls of the labyrinth conducted heat very well). But the temperature doesn’t bother him, not as he gazes into a vast sky, one that he’d only ever seen through windows and in pictures before, and only when he was very young. The same freezing white stuff that’s on the ground only gently falls from the sky, and he is transfixed by it.

“Blood and darkness, why is it _snowing_? Of all the luck!” Theseus shouts from beside him.

“Snow...”

“Ah!” Theseus looks to Asterius. “Have you not touched it before, Asterius? Beautiful, isn’t it? But unpleasant, when one is not covered in fur!”

“We can find someplace warmer,” Asterius says, though he is still in a half-daze at the very vastness of the world around him. How often, he wonders, might they get away with stealing off together to enjoy the surface?

(Likely not very often. They _are_ supposed to be guarding Elysium. Still...)

At his words Theseus has already began to dash off, but it’s easy enough to catch up to him and his far shorter legs. They run together like this for a bit, Theseus largely silent, using all of his energy to run and to search.

Soon enough, they happen on a fence, a cottage, a garden: a small farm, Theseus explains, or else the home of an individual with godlike ability to maintain this amount of land so well. Miraculously, there is no snow here, and it stands as an oasis of warmth. There are all of the vegetables Asterius has eaten in Elysium, and more he does not recognize: orange things in the ground, and bushes of round, juicy-looking fruit.

While Asterius is enraptured by the produce, wondering if the dead can eat food of the living, Theseus ignores it entirely and instead runs past. Soon, there is hollering coming from that direction.

“Asterius, look! Look!” Theseus yells, more exited than Asterius has seen him since the last time they saw victory against the short one. “There it is!”

The creature he is pointing at stands in a large fenced area, chewing on grass with a thoughtful expression on its face. Though the body vaguely resembles that of a horse—which he does see in Elysium occasionally, alongside the chariots—the animal’s head is a different shape, one that is still familiar. There is the long, broad snout; the cream-colored horns; the short, dark fur; even the nose ring that Asterius had once thought he was given only because he was a monster. They are roughly the same size, but the bull stands on four legs and does not seem capable of anything but that, so Asterius feels larger.

This creature is clearly not a monster, he is only...

“A cousin,” Asterius says of the bull.

“Something like that,” Theseus says, patting the bull’s nose. "Isn't he beautiful? His soft fur, his broad and majestic horns, his shining hooves!"

"Moo," the bull says.

Asterius is inclined to wonder if the way that this creature seems to him—calm, nonchalant—is how he seems to Theseus.

The bull looks at Asterius and snorts, and Asterius does the same in return.

“You see? He is a gentle beast.”

“He doesn’t eat people.”

“He absolutely does not eat people,” Theseus confirms.

“Can I help you?” comes a voice from behind them.

They turn to see a woman about Theseus’ height, with long blonde hair styled in a lose braid and decorated with flowers. There’s something special about her, something that makes him feel almost compelled to bow, though Asterius isn’t sure what it is.

“My apologies for the intrusion, ma’am,” Asterius says. “I take it this is your home.”

“Ah,” says the woman, “you two are shades. What are you doing here? Is Cerberus slacking on the job?” She sounds only mildly concerned about that fact as she looks them up and down, her eyes lingering for a moment on their belts.

“He let us pass," Asterius answers, though he is unsure if he ought to.

“Well, well. Then he must have thought you weren’t too much of a threat to the surface. Or you fed him something smelly.” She grins. “But you ought to go back eventually, before someone finds you up here and drags you there. Or worse, doesn’t let you in.”

“Pah! They would never do such a thing, not to me, Athens’ greatest king, Theseus! Dare you taunt me with your words, woman?”

“Do not be so rude, King. We are trespassing on her land.”

“Theseus... the one who claims to be Poseidon’s boy, hmm?”

Theseus is clearly affronted. “ _Claims_ to be? Why I never—”

“ _Peace_ , King.”

“Hmph.”

The woman looks at Theseus, then at Asterius, and he gets the sense she knows more than she’s letting on. “What an odd pair you two make. Did you come all this way to say hello to my bull?”

“It’s a long story, but... yes, more or less.”

“Well, don’t worry about the trespassing, but take care of yourselves up here, all right? You should be fine as long as you stay on my land. The gods don’t look here, trust me.”

Asterius nods. “We will.”

He is glad to stay for however long he is able. Asterius isn’t used to humans being kind to him—even the shades that have become his fans watch him from a distance with a combination of awe and fear—and he’s glad for her unexpected lack of fear.

A suggestion, and then she pulls a comb from her pocket. Soon he is seated on the ground as she, still standing runs a comb through his mane.

“It’s nice to have a bull with long hair, for once!” she muses, separating it into sections. “Doing my own isn’t very interesting.”

Theseus, realizing what she is doing, goes to her side. “Allow me to assist! There is a _very_ specific technique that is needed to braid my friend’s mane properly, and only _I_ —”

The woman swats his hand away. “Why don’t you pick us some flowers, dear?” she says.

He pouts, but does not object, and scurries off, shouting something about finding the _best flowers imaginable_.

She laughs as he leaves and returns to her task, humming a song Asterius has no way of recognizing. "I'm quite fond of bulls, you know. Gentle creatures, but strong and fierce when they need to be. That's why seeing someone like you was a pleasant surprise."

"Thank you," Asterius replies. "I'm not told that often. Almost never, in fact. Most people who see me are afraid, and until now I thought it was because of the bull half of me. I see now that cows themselves are not the source of the fear, but rather the cross between man and beast."

“I’ve heard of you, you know. The Bull of Minos.” the woman says, confirming Asterius’ earlier suspicion.

“Most people who know the king have,” Asterius replies. “As he likes to say, our pasts are entwined, and so are too will be our futures.”

“That the two of you are so close... how it happened must be an interesting story.”

“It is to me, and to Theseus. To you, perhaps it would be. Perhaps not.”

“I have a certain fondness for unusual friendships. I’ve had a few myself, over the years.” Her hands are as gentle as her words, unlike the enthusiastic way Theseus likes to braid. “In any case, I’m glad you’re well. I’ve always thought of your story as a sad one, unfairly punished for someone else’s wrongdoing.”

“It is as it is. I bear no ill will—not to the king, or to anyone else. In death, we are partners. Perhaps even more than that.”

The woman hums thoughtfully. “To forgive is strength, and to find peace in strife even more so. If I had a son, I hope he would be like you.”

“That is kind,” says Asterius, trying not to think of his own mother. She cared for him, for a time. He is not sure where she is now, or what she thinks of him, if she thinks of him at all.

Before he can continue, Theseus reappears and drops a bundle of flowers at the woman’s feet. “Take your pick!” he says, “Asterius’ mane looks glorious with any, and all!”

The woman selects a few to start with. “Perfect timing,” she says. “We were just talking about you. Sit.”

Theseus does, directly in front of Asterius so that they are face to face, his knees against his chest. “Asterius, did you tell her of my deeds? Or of our time _together_ , getting the best of the various rabble and blaggards that invade the realm from time to time?”

“I told her how much I care for you,” Asterius answers.

“Ah,” Theseus says, at a loss for words not the first time today.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Theseus recovers quickly with the complement. “But of course, my dear friend, I would go on a journey a hundred--nay, a thousand times longer, if it was to make you smile! For I too care for you, I might even say that I—”

“Done!” the woman announces, and Theseus gets up to inspect her work.

“Almost as skillful as my own braiding!” he says. “And the surface flowers are a nice touch.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”

They’re able to chat for a while longer, Theseus making up for lost time by doing most of the talking, but soon they begin to worry about whether Hades might have noticed they’re gone, and politely dismiss themselves. They bid the woman farewell, and give an extra farewell to the bull, who responds with another moo.

“He sounded like you,” says Theseus as they return underground. “Only less, eh, wordy?”

“Did he?” asks Asterius, feeling his mane to ensure that he hasn’t dropped any of the flowers. He’ll have to preserve some in a book. “...am I wordy?”

“Compared to a cow! This is why I am glad you are half-man! Among other reasons.”

This answers both questions, Asterius thinks. He is glad Theseus is a whole man, because he isn’t sure if he’d be able to keep up with a Theseus that was part bull, but he declines to say as much. “I can be proud of my heritage,” he says instead. “The fact that I am part cow, that is. Not so much the details of it.”

“You deserve to be, as I am proud of mine,” Theseus says. “Also, thank you for humoring me.”

“Humoring you? I was the one who asked.”

“You did, but not to such a level of detail. You might have been happy enough if I simply explained what a cow was and left it at that, rather than dragging you all across creation.”

Asterius snorts. Despite how he seems, Theseus does, in fact, question his own decisions at times. He does not need to. “I had a good day,” he says. “We spend most of our time together sparring, or fighting others. I enjoy it. But I enjoy this, too. Anything, as long as it is with you.”

Theseus blushes, or the shade-equivalent thereof. Though Asterius complements him often, it has as of late tended to make him shy. “Then we will do it again, if that’s how you feel.”

Asterius pulls one of the flowers from his mane, tucks it behind Theseus’ ear. The motion forces their faces close. “It is. We should.”

For some reason, Theseus stumbles to find the proper words. Is it inappropriate, being so close to him? Asterius has always enjoyed it, but perhaps Theseus does not. He pulls away, and Theseus visibly relaxes.

With Theseus so quiet, Asterius feels an odd urge to fill the silence. “You were right,” he says. “Cows ought to go to Elysium.”

Theseus’ laugh is so familiar, but it brings joy to his heart, though it no longer beats, every time.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on my [fic twitter](https://twitter.com/surprisepink_) or my [regular twitter](https://twitter.com/seraphknights)!


End file.
